The Queen is a Dryad
by Valiant Me
Summary: A cold never-changing creature, steady in her affections. Soft and gentle like the breeze that ruffles the leaves that shower down her silver tresses. Slow for anger and disappointment. The loud boisterous King can hardly bear it. She's bereft of passion, of joy, he tells her often.


The Queen is a dryad. A tall willowy creature with long limbs and fathomless grey eyes. She's a beauty, for a daughter of the forest. Her sharp features have a charm to them, her long sharp teeth look like marble to a degree. When she smiles she entrances any given creature. When she sings she delights the whole of Cair Paravel. The court loves her very much. It is a shame the King doesn't.

The Queen is a dryad. A cold never-changing creature, steady in her affections. Soft and gentle like the breeze that ruffles the leaves that shower down her silver tresses. Slow for anger and disappointment. The loud boisterous King can hardly bear it. She's bereft of passion of joy, he tells her often. But not of happiness milord, she replies meekly.

The Queen is a dryad. King Frank IX spotted her, gliding almost, amidst the trees of the Western March. The King was hunting, warm and sweaty after a long luckless day. She's pure beauty, he thinks. What elegance in her step! (like no lady in Cair Paravel) What music in her voice! (unlike any of the Talking Animals he most confers with) What a delight were her features! (different from those of her sisters).

The Queen is a dryad. She was most coveted by the King upon their first meeting. Oh, how he must have her, he thought. What purity and gentleness she would bring into his life! Oh, how he must have her! The beautiful and unspoiled female form of that dryad, all to himself. He had been young, when he took her to Cair Paravel to be wed.

The Queen is a dryad. She was quick to give King Frank IX a son. Feeble looking little blonde boy that he is. She's proud of him, her little human darling. So unlike herself. She looks at her husband with pride as well. She likes to admire him from afar, a bold strong human man that he is. Noble, though not the greatest of kings.

The Queen is a dryad. She doesn't like it, she never did, when King Frank comes calling to her private chambers. She doesn't like it when she's made to spend the night in the confines of the cold marble castle and not deep within her tree as she likes.

The Queen is a dryad. She doesn't look down upon the dazzling noblewoman from the north that has just come to court. She welcomes her with courtesy. The northern woman, Jadis, is not human, she can tell. She's too beautiful, too great, too fierce.

The Queen is a dryad. She can tell that the King is besotted by the new guest. Mesmerized by her looks and her mystery, just as he had once been by her. She doesn't worry. The King is her husband, she thinks, not hers. His love is hers by Aslan's sacred blessing, not hers.

The Queen is a dryad. Not a noblewoman from the north, she rationalizes calmly as she plays with her little blonde darling. Her handmaiden has been telling stories. Stories of the northern woman in the King's bed. The Queen knows better than to believe them.

The Queen is a dryad. A creature of solid faith and trust, strong like the roots of her tree. She dismisses the whispers about the court. The King's love isn't for Jadis, she explains to the confused handmaiden, it is for her by Aslan's law.

The Queen is a dryad. She hears the whispers, she feels the looks. The women of the court pity her. Jadis has the King in her grasp. The King has professed drunkenly that he could never do without her. But the Queen knows that he doesn't mean it. That he doesn't love this new woman.

The Queen is a dryad. She cannot cry. But she can feel. Oh, how she feels when she sees her husband's silent corpse, still upon his love-bed. When his castle is laid to siege and their son murdered before her eyes. She feels the screams and the terror, the blood and the dread, the vast cold left behind.

The Queen is a dryad. She is not killed for her tree isn't felled. She leaves accursed Cair Paravel behind. Jadis hasn't destroyed the marble structure, but the castle is bereft of its self. It is cold now. Only cold.


End file.
